Parents
by leuska
Summary: "She just wants to go home, crawl under her sheets, alone, and never look back at this day again." - An aftermath of a disastrous evening. Based on the SPOILERS and SNEAK PEEKS for 5x08 AFTER HOURS.


_A/N: This one-shot is based on the **spoilers and sneak peeks for tomorrow's episode 5x08 After Hours**. I don't think the episode will go this direction, I think it will be more about Castle's and Beckett's issues than issues with their parents, but after watching that dinner sneak peek, I couldn't shake this idea from my mind. _

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**Parents**

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A huuuuge, huge huge huge 'thank you' to SarahlovesA for the super-quick and great beta. You've really saved the day!

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She slams his front door behind her, quickly shaking off her coat as she follows him into his sitting room.

"I can't believe you said that!" she snaps, throwing the coat onto the couch, her hands at her hips, her posture defensive.

It's three in the morning and they've finally got back from the case, after safely taking their suspect to the 12th.

She is angry with him. Angry and tired with this whole evening. She just wants to go home, crawl under her sheets, _alone_, and never look back at this day again. The only reason she agreed to go with him to his place in the first place was because she had left her purse with her phone when they left in haste, earlier in the evening.

It's the middle of the night now, her father long gone home. Castle had called Martha from the precinct, letting her know what was going on. His mother confirmed that Jim had left some time ago and she herself was going to bed, not waiting up for them. At least there is that.

He obviously has similar things on his mind because, despite his voice being angry and irritated, he keeps it low. "Me? What _I_ said? How about your dad practically saying my mother was stupid?!"

"What?!" she jerks in surprise and indignation. "That's _not_ true, Castle, and you know it. He was just responding to your mom saying he was as dull and boring as a stick."

He snorts, his hands flying in the air in frustration. "That's complete nonsense! She just said she found _baseball_ dull, _not_ your dad."

"Oh, c'mon, Castle!" she spurts spitefully. "You're just trying to justify your mom's improper behavior."

"Oh, this is rich, Kate. Excuse me, but look in the mirror! Throughout the whole evening, it was _you_ jumping to the rescue, whenever you thought your dad needed it."

"Yeah, well, he is_ my_ _dad_, Castle. He's got nobody else but me, so, yeah, it's my _job_ to look out for him when-"

He jumps in.

"When what? To protect him against what? An uncomfortable dinner conversation? He's an adult, Kate. I'm pretty sure he can take care of himself."

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she huffs out a frustrated breath. "He was being polite, Castle. He didn't want to act inappropriately-"

"Oh, so now it's all my mom's fault?" There is hurt and no small amount of disbelief in his voice. "She was just trying to be _friendly_. Look, I am not saying there aren't certain things she could have handled differently-"

"Oh, ya think?" she snorts, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

"Well, what did you expect me to do? They're two adults. They should settle their disagreements by themselves," he argues, his arms gesticulating wildly.

"You could have _said_ something," she spits, eyes in narrow slits.

"Oh, so this is what this is all about? Me not taking your side?" he exclaims, incredulous.

"You know she was rude to my dad-"

"And vice versa!" he bursts out.

"That's _not_ true," she insists stubbornly.

He rolls his eyes at her at that, he actually _rolls his eyes_. _At her._ Her nostrils flare.

"Why are you so determined to have your dad come out as the moral victor here?" he inquires, his posture screaming helplessness. He honestly doesn't understand it, has a hard time reading her tonight.

His question seems to take her aback, her posture growing even more defensive, more closed off. He doesn't like it one bit, this detached, cold-shouldered Kate.

"That's not- I'm not- I'm just saying you could have said something to your mom about her behavior. I warned you before that my father wasn't like that, that he wasn't a social butterfly, like you or your Mom or your daughter. So yes, I may have been a little protective of him earlier, but you know that he's had it hard in the past. And it's just the two of us now and we have to take care of each other because no one else will."

A deadly silence falls over the room, unexpected and oppressive. She expected him to fight back, twist her words against her, but instead, she is met with complete and utter silence. He looks at her now, disbelief, hurt and something darker lurking at the back of his eyes as he quietly observes her. When he finally speaks again, it's far quieter, calmer and more measured, all the fight gone from his voice. It unsettles her more than if he continued to shout and argue.

"I know all that, Kate, of course t I do. You _know_ that I do. But sometimes.." His eyes shy away, hiding from hers, suspiciously shiny, "Sometimes, I feel like you forget that you're not the only one with a single parent here." The words are uttered so quietly she has to strain her ears to hear him, something tired and broken in his posture, a vulnerability she nearly never sees on his face clouding his handsome features. The desolate, resigned look of him is like a slap on the face.

Because it's true.

Sometimes…sometimes she really forgets that, to Castle, Martha means the same as her dad means to her – the only parenting figure left in her life. And for Castle, his mother may be even more special, more important, for he has never known another parent but her. It momentarily takes her aback, puts it all into blinding perspective for her, and immediately lets her heart fill with unbearable shame.

When confronted with parental issues, she's always made it about her mom's tragedy, about her father's problems. And Castle's always let it be just about her – about _her_ issues, _her_ pain, _her_ loss. And it has made her forget.

He doesn't make a big deal of it, the lack of a father in his life, despite his boisterous personality and occasional jokes. So yeah, she just assumed. Well, that's the problem, isn't it? She _assumed_.

His body is now turned away from her, his back facing her. His shoulders are hunched, his hands at his hips, gripping tight, as if for support, and he looks like he's about to bend double under the pressure of it all. Her heart clenches tightly in her chest, trembling like a leaf with guilt and self-reproach.

"Castle-" she starts uneasily, but he stops her with a raised hand, the gesture sharp and clear. It stings, despite the fact that she doesn't know what exactly she wanted to say to him. Maybe she wanted to apologize, wanted to acknowledge the fact that she so often forgets about his own wounds – like the fact that he's fatherless, that he's practically half an orphan himself. Yet, unlike Kate, Castle never knew both of his parents. His mother is his only family; Martha and his daughter. So yes, of course he's protective of her as well, and why the hell should he_ not be_? Just look at how protective she was of her own dad tonight.

"I'm sorry," she utters, her voice barely a whisper. "I was being unfair."

Her apology rings in the quietness of the room, the air feeling stale, the silence suffocating. He won't speak, won't acknowledge her words, and it pains her more than she would care to admit.

She gulps, swallows down her pride, and takes a tentative step towards him, then another, until she's at his back, mere inches away. She raises her hand, hovers her trembling fingers over the firm flesh of his back, where she can feel that familiar warmth he radiates against her palm. Still, she hesitates.

His silence unnerves her. She doesn't know him like this, so serious, so grave. So unresponsive to her. With a feeling of panic she can't properly explain, she closes the remaining gap between them, gluing her front to his back, bringing him into a firm hug.

It takes a moment or two, but, gradually, he relaxes, won't fight against her touch. He takes her hands in his, intertwines their fingers.

"Look, I know she's far from perfect." His voice rings in the silence. "But she is my _mother_, Kate, and I've got no one else."

"That's not true-" she wants to argue, wants to fight against this strange, unnerving funk she's worked him into, but he won't let her.

"I've got just my mother and my daughter. There is no other family, no one else to look after-."

She won't let him continue this time.

"That's._not_.true," she says, emphasizing each and every word. "You've got friends, Castle; you've got the boys, and Lanie, and me. You've got _me_."

She forces him to turn around, can't take speaking to his back anymore, where she is unable to look him in the eyes. Cradling his face in her hands, her palms frame his cheeks, a desperate, urgent quality to her features.

He lets out a tiny, mirthless laugh, his eyes surprisingly cold and cynical.

"Yeah, I've got you. Until there's another little hurdle like this in your path that will make you want to backpedal on us again."

_Ouch._

She retracts her hands as if burned. But she _did_ deserve that one, didn't she? He's right. Just a couple of hours back, she questioned them and everything they've built so far because of a stupid fight their _parents_ had over dinner. Still, it hurts, hearing him say it like that, listening to the resignation in his voice, the conviction that they won't last because _she_ won't let them.

He must catch the hurt in her eyes, because his eyes grow huge, clearer somehow, as if the fog has only now lifted from his brain and he realizes what he'd said aloud.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles quickly, taking a step towards her, despite his eyes shying away. "That was uncalled for. I didn't mean it like that. I'm so sorry, Kate."

"No, don't be. "The words, along with oxygen, come hard to her right now. She gulps, tries again. She needs to clarify, explain herself.

"You…you're right, okay? I am not the easiest or the most stable person in a relationship. I…I know I've got a hard shell to crack, that I am unnecessarily complicated and as stubborn as hell at times, okay? But I, Castle, I _do_ care about you."

She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs to the top with the air she knows she'll need if she wants to survive this confession."I _do_ love you. And I, I want to try. To be better. For you. For _us_. I want us to work."

Proclamations like this are not her thing to do, not at all. She is no good with words and not much good at romance either. She is insecure and vulnerable. But when she sees Castle make another move, take another step towards her, his eyes growing tender, she can't help but feel a huge burden being lifted from her shoulders. His hands come to grasp at her elbows, tugging her towards him, close, their touch gentle and electric.

"I want us to work, too," he utters, a small smile tugging at his lips as he slowly closes he gap between them and presses a lingering kiss to her lips. She smiles into the kiss, her heart fluttering in her chest. She is still amazed at times how the novelty of their intimacy hasn't worn off yet. Not that she is complaining.

He keeps the kiss simple, a gesture of affirmation. His lips travel up, come to rest against her forehead, his warmth breath hitting her skin in gentle puffs.

"Look, Kate, I know my mother can be difficult at times," he starts timidly, the shyness in his voice causing her eyes to close in guilt. Damn, she should have chosen her words more carefully. "She is in no way perfect," he continues, "But…"

"But she's your _mom,_" she finishes for him. "And you love her, no matter what. I get it, Castle. I really do."

She takes a step back in order to look at him, her hands linking behind his back. "And you know that, despite everything that's been said tonight, I really, really like her, right?"

He nods, gently bumping their foreheads. She sinks into his embrace once more, letting out a shuddering breath. Making up feels surprisingly nice.

She lets herself enjoy the silence, basks in the warmth and safety she always feels in Castle's arms. They don't feel suffocating, unlike the embrace of some of her previous boyfriends. Maybe it's because she knows he'd always let her go the moment she asked. She doesn't want that, though. At least not right now.

Finally, she draws back a little, looks him in the eye, an amused twinkle in her eye. "And what if she doesn't like baseball?" She shrugs at him. "It's not a crime. My dad shouldn't have reacted so harshly. And you know what? They both acted pretty childishly yesterday, never really taking us into consideration. So why should _we_ care if they can't act like two adults around each other?" She shrugs again, pleased to see a matching spark ignite in the incredible blue of Castle's eyes.

"I agree," he quips, his lips stretching into a shy, adorable little grin. "And just for the record, I do," he adds.

"Do what?"

"Like baseball." There it is, that boyish zeal she likes so very much.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good," she says with satisfaction. "Cause I've won a bet to Esposito and got tickets for this week's game. And I'd really like to take you with me."

His eyes go huge. He looks surprised. Surprised and pleased and even a little…touched.

"It's a date," he says, sealing the promise with a fierce kiss.


End file.
